


between two points

by difficultheart



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drug Addiction, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Lots and lots of sexual tension, Multi, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 18:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3144335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/difficultheart/pseuds/difficultheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>an elven bartender running from her past and a veteran trying to shake a morphine addiction strike up an unlikely friendship that, before they can realize it, becomes much more. series of connected stories in a modern setting. any chapters with smut or potential triggers will have warnings at the beginning.</p>
<p>[Abandoned/unfinished]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. a strange kind of luck

**Author's Note:**

> in which branwyn lavellan and cullen rutherford are stuck in an elevator together, and a friendship begins.

At this point, Branwyn Lavellan was beginning to wonder if she was cursed. The tips at work had been terrible, the heater in her car had stopped working, she'd had to run through sleet from her parking spot a block and a half away from the complex, and her phone had decided to die some time between leaving the bar and walking inside. She didn't look up when someone else rushed into the elevator, reaching out to place her hand in front of the sliding doors so they didn't shut on them. 

“Ah, thanks.” The deep voice that thanked her, however, did make her look up. The doors shut as the stranger who had dashed in pulled back the hood of his coat, smoothing a hand over his close cropped blond hair. The nervous smile on his face pulled at a faded scar above his lower lip, hand dropping to scratch at the stubble on his cheeks. A low whuffing sound drew her attention from him and she startled when she noticed the ridiculously large dog he had with him, the great beast staring up at her with big brown eyes and waving its stubby tail. “Had to cut our walk short when the sleet started.”

Branwyn let out a small grunt in agreement, still trying to wring icy water out of her skirt. It was rare for her to run into any of the people who lived in the flats around her, and she usually preferred it that way. Not everyone in Haven was happy with the knowledge that an elf lived in the same building as they did. But if the stranger noticed her large, pointed ears and small, thin frame, he said nothing about it, instead reaching out to press the button for the seventh floor. The same floor she lived on. 

“Which floor?” He asked, glancing at her, finger still hovering over the dusty old buttons. 

At this point, she had several options; she could lie and tell him she lived on another floor, and then use the stairs to get to the right floor, or she could just tell him she lived on the same floor, and potentially come across as either a creepy little elf who was going to stalk him back to his place, or tempt fate with a strange human man knowing where she lived. But considering the complete lack of malice in his gaze and the relaxed slump of his shoulders, she doubted she was in any trouble from him, even if he was at least a head and a half taller than her.

“That's my floor too, actually. Hell of a coincidence.” Somehow managing to twist her face into a wry smile, she dropped the damp cotton of her skirt and focused on combing the knots out of her tangled hair instead. He shrugged in reply, and she felt the tension that had slowly been building in her body dissolve. 

An awkward silence stretched between them as the rickety old elevator lumbered its way up, punctuated only by the occasional creak of steel cables and panting from his dog. Around the fifth floor, the elevator shuddered to a halt and Branwyn had to throw her hands up to catch herself as she jolted forward at the force of it, almost slamming her face into the metal panel in front of her. The stranger stumbled as well and the dog let out an anxious growl, pacing around him. A few tense seconds passed before the lights in the elevator went out and Branwyn screamed in frustration before she could stop herself. Kicking at the dirty old metal panels with her heels, she cursed under her breath, forgetting about the other person in the small space with her for the time being.

Finally, an awkward cough cut off her angry tirade and she composed herself as best she could, eyes adjusting quickly to the dark. She suspected the stranger wasn't seeing as well as she was, and her suspicions were confirmed when he smacked right into the wall next to her, a short curse escaping him. Before she could stop it, Branwyn let out a manic little giggle, slapping her hands over her mouth to stop herself. 

“Today just hasn't been my day,” he grumbled, rubbing at his forehead. His dog was pressed up against his side, and he stumbled for a moment under the weight before gaining his balance again and giving it a quick scratch behind the ears. “Are you all right? That was, uh... Quite the scream you let out.”

“I'm fine. I'm just starting to think that I might be cursed with the kind of luck I've been having lately,” Branwyn answered, moving over to the panel and trying to find the call button. The landlord (that unhelpful useless piece of shit) was probably fast asleep, but she figured if she pressed it enough times, someone was bound to come and get them. Punching the button, she let out a low groan when the faded plastic cracked and fell to pieces. “Creators, this would happen.”

“Wait, you can see?” His voice was quiet and strained, and she could hear him shuffling around behind her, trying to locate her. Of course his human eyes hadn't quite adjusted to the darkness yet. She reached out and brushed her fingers over his elbow, pulling back when he flinched. “Ah, sorry, just a little...” He sighed and ran his hands over his face. The dog was leaning heavily against him at this point, letting out soft whines. 

“It's fine. Elf eyes, and all that shit. I can see better in the dark than you she... You humans.” She bit off the elven slur before it could make its way out, kneeling to pick up the shattered plastic that had been their means of rescue. “And it looks like the emergency button decided to give up on life, so there goes the easiest way of getting someone up her to get us out.”

She turned to face him and he let out a startled yelp, slamming his head against the wall of the elevator.

“Maker's breath, your eyes...” he let out a startled chuckle and she sighed heavily.

“Yeah, they have a bad habit of doing the whole 'glinting in the dark' thing like cat eyes. Sorry. I'd offer to stop it, but, well.” Branwyn shrugged and slid down the wall to sit on the floor, staring up at the panel in the ceiling above her. “Are you okay? You seem a little... tense.”

The stranger was quiet for a few moments before he answered, his breaths quiet and measured. But she could see the way his fingers shook when he reached for his dog, and the way the dog quietly pressed its head into his palm, its large, warm body still leaning up against him. 

“I'm fine.” His voice was cold and measured, and he dug in his pocket as he spoke. “I might be able to get a signal in here. If nothing else, there's a flashlight on my phone that can help me see a little bit better.”

He fumbled with the phone for a few moments, fingers heavy and clumsy in the dark. Finally, he got it unlocked, the screen shedding a soft light on his face. Mumbling to himself, he navigated through menus. “I doubt Roderick will wake up if we call him, but I can try the emergency line. They can get fire fighters out here to help us, if nothing else.” 

Apparently his experiences with Roderick, the landlord, had been similar with hers, judging by the bitter edge to his voice by the time he was finished speaking. She let out a soft chuckle and hugged her knees to her chest as he dialed emergency services and turned away, voice soft as he spoke to whoever was on the other end. After a few minutes of hushed conversation, he finally hung up and fiddled with the phone for a few more minutes until a bright light shone from the back of it. Placing it facedown on the floor so the light was spread a bit more evenly in the small space, he sat down as well, stretching his legs out in front of him and letting out a heavy sigh. 

“They said they should have someone here to get us out as soon as possible, but I wouldn't hold my breath about getting out of here in the next hour or so.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, eyes slipping closed. The light illuminated the hard, sharp angles of his face, highlighting the tension and anxiety in them. The dog flopped down next to him and rested its head on his lap, earning a chuckle from him. “Well, since we're going to be stuck in here for a while with each other... I'm Cullen. I live in 7C.” He extended a hand towards her, one corner of his lips pulled up in a small smile.

Branwyn hesitated for a moment. Living for twenty-three years as a pretty elven girl had taught her to be cautious around men, and especially human men. She'd had her share of shems giving her lewd looks while she worked, and she'd always been careful around anyone she didn't know was guaranteed safe. But, just this once, she relented. There was something about the stranger-- Cullen-- that made her normally suspicious nature relax. Reaching out, she shook his large, calloused hand with her own smaller one. 

“Branwyn. I live in 7E, actually,” she replied, pulling back away from him after a brief, firm hand shake. “I'm not really used to meeting my neighbors, since I work pretty unconventional hours. And definitely not like this.” She gestured around the small space and got another soft chuckle from him.

“Yes, well, I don't exactly make a habit of getting stuck in elevators with my neighbors, either. But it's still nice to meet you, Branwyn.” Something about the way he said her name, or perhaps the half-smile on his face, or maybe even the way his brown eyes glinted in the dim light sent an odd shiver down her spine, which she quickly suppressed. “If you don't mind my asking... What exactly do you do that keeps you out this late?”

“I'm a bartender.” Probably not a question she should be answering, but there wasn't much else for them to talk about other than themselves, and she didn't want to spend an hour in awkward silence with Cullen. “I work at Herald's Rest. The big place not far from the old temple?”

“Ah, yes, I know of it. The, uh, outfit does seem a bit bartender-esque. Not that that's a bad thing!” He quickly rushed to defend his words, throwing his hands up, a flush on his cheeks. To be fair, he did have a point; not many other jobs would be okay with short skirts, low cut tops, and high heels. 

“It's fine,” she said, unable to keep a small laugh from her voice. “Saying I look like I work the job I work isn't really an insult. What about you? What do you do that involves walking massive dogs at three in the morning?” 

A strange expression crossed Cullen's face, and for a moment, Branwyn wondered if she had pried just a little too far. However, he let out a soft laugh and shook his head, rubbing at the back of his neck again. 

“My job actually doesn't involve taking Riordan out for walks late at night. That's the chronic insomnia.” His hand drifted to his ear for a moment, pressing against it, before he dropped it to scratch at his dog's ears again. “I actually work from home, most of the time. Private contractor.”

“Ah.” Branwyn was grasping at straws here at this point, struggling to think of something else to ask him about, other than his dog, which she was afraid could spiral into one of those hour long rants about pet care she'd been stuck in before. Thankfully, Cullen spoke up.

“Your accent's Starkhaven, isn't it? When I lived in Kirkwall, I knew a few people from there. But it seems like a lot of the Free Marchers tend to stay away from the Frostbacks,” he said, still scratching absently at Riordan's ears. “Not that I can really blame them, given the weather outside.”

Laughing, Branwyn nodded, fingers playing with the damp ends of her hair. “I spent most of my life around Starkhaven, so the accent was unavoidable. And trust me, I got a few talks about moving this far away from my sister. I believe the words 'hellish winter wasteland' were actually used.”

“I'm Fereldan myself, Honnleath specifically, so I can understand her attitude.” He joined in her laughter as well, the dog stirring for a moment before settling back down to go to sleep. “I did get to visit Starkhaven while I was stationed in Kirkwall, and I do have to question why you'd leave such a beautiful city for... well, this.”

That was not an easy question to answer, even around her friends. It edged to close to her sharp edges and empty spaces, a place she'd rather not let a stranger see. Not yet. Deflecting the conversation back towards him, she rested her chin on her knees, raising her eyebrows. 

“Stationed? You're a soldier, then?” She'd met soldiers before; that was just part of living. Border skirmishes between Fereldan and Orlesian soldiers were frequent, especially considering how close to the border Haven was. Why a Fereldan soldier would be out in Kirkwall was beyond her, but not something she would explicitly ask him. 

“I was, yes. I... retired two years ago. Injuries I had sustained when I first joined got to the point where I could no longer serve.” That explained the dog and the insomnia, then. “I was stationed in Kirkwall after my first assignment went south, to help some of the refugees that had fled there. You remember the chemical attacks?”

The Blight, the Fereldans had called it; a chemical agent that destroyed absolutely everything in its wake. No one was entirely certain who had unleashed it on the country ten years ago, but signs pointed towards neighboring Orlais, hence the long, drawn out skirmishes since. Not all out war, but close enough. She'd only been a child then, and had only heard stories about the damage and deaths it caused. Even so long after the agent had been neutralised, signs of it could still be see in parts of Fereldan. 

“Vaguely, yeah. There were a lot of refugees coming in to Starkhaven, too.” She could still remember the haunted looks on their faces, and the pale, drawn faces of those who had been too late to escape the Blight's path. It was, she had heard, one of the most painful ways to go. “I didn't come to Haven until a few months ago, so I didn't get to see any of it first hand. Did you?”

“I... yes.” A shadow fell across his face and the smile faded away, his eyes hollow. Branwyn almost slapped herself. The Blight wasn't exactly the best subject for a conversation, especially not with a veteran and a survivor of it. 

To escape the awkward silence that was threatening to stretch endlessly between them, Branwyn began to tell every story she could think of from work. She told him about the odd drink combinations people asked for, the customers who got so drunk they tried to dance on tables and inevitably either fell off or were dragged off by security. The tales spilled past her lips in a steady wave, and she watched him closely as she told each one. The shadow that had fallen over him was steadily lifting, and she managed to get a few genuine chuckles from him. No bellowing laughs or bright smiles, but she counted it as a small victory. Cullen didn't seem like the kind of man who laughed easily. By the time she had gotten to tales of customers who gave terrible tips, the lights came back on in the elevator, startling both of them. 

Squinting her eyes against the sudden, bright light, Branwyn slowly pushed herself back up to her feet as the elevator gave a mighty, creaking groan and began to move upwards again. Cullen grinned and folded his arms over his chest once he was standing again, looking down at her. An odd expression passed over his face as she gave him an answering grin, and he looked away, a slight flush climbing up his neck. 

“Well, thank you for the company, Branwyn,” he said as they walked off of the elevator once it was finally open, Riordan straining at his leash. It amazed her that the giant dog wasn't dragging him off; clearly, he was hiding some impressive muscles under his coat. Before her mind could drift off in a dangerous direction, she tore her gaze back to the carpet under their feet. 

“I'd say that I'd be happy to get stuck in an elevator with you again, but that wouldn't really be true,” she laughed, digging in her purse for her keys as they approached his flat. “It was still nice to meet you. And if I ever had to pick anyone to get stuck in the dark with for an hour, I guess I'd have to put you a bit farther up the list.”

Cullen laughed and gave a sharp tug on Riordan's leash, the dog obediently sitting in front of the door as he dug in his pocket. She hadn't noticed it until then, but he had an odd limp to his walk that shortened his strides and made him favor his left side, and even as he fished out his keys, he kept his left hand in the pocket of his jacket. Probably the old injuries he had told her about earlier, and she was snapped back to attention when he cleared his throat, one eyebrow raised. 

“I... sorry, what?” Branwyn fought back an embarrassed flush, digging the sharp stiletto heel of one of her shoes into the carpet. She was not going to become some damned schoolgirl, and especially not around an (admittedly very handsome) stranger she was likely never going to see again.

“I asked if you would like to meet again sometime,” he said, a flush working its way up his neck. “Like... a friend sort of thing. Not--” 

“That would be nice,” Branwyn interrupted before he could dig himself any deeper into a hole. “I'm free on Tuesday.”

The genuine smile and the look of relief on his face had her stomach twisting in knots again, and she clutched her keys tighter in her hand, the metal digging uncomfortably into her palm. 

“Tuesday, then.” Bidding her a flustered and stammered good night, Cullen unlocked his door and headed inside, closing it behind him with a soft click.

As Branwyn unlocked and headed inside her own flat, she couldn't help feeling those twisting, uneasy knots in her stomach. Something gave her the feeling that something she had been avoiding for years was going to be crashing into her life soon.


	2. if there are boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> branwyn and dorian talk about relationships, and cullen visits herald's rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter felt like a little bit of a filler while i was writing it, but i wanted to give at least a little bit of background on branwyn and touch her own issues a little bit. but come next chapter, there should be much more dialogue between her and cullen. thank you for the kudos and lovely comments so far, and i hope you guys stick around with me a little longer!
> 
> p.s.-- dorian and branwyn were also the bestest-best friends in game, so i had to get some banter between them in here some way.
> 
> p.p.s.-- i also made a dumb indulgent fanmix for this fic, because dumb indulgent fanmixes are what i do best. http://8tracks.com/difficultheart/between-two-points

“You've been awfully distracted the past two weeks.” 

Branwyn looked up as Dorian Pavus, the other bartender on duty, leaned against the bar next to her, the corner of his mouth curled into a knowing smirk. One of the things she both loved and hated about her friend was just how easily he could read her. Glaring at him, she finished the mixed drink she was making, placing it on a tray for one of the waitresses. She smacked him in the chest with the hand towel she kept tucked into her belt, and he let out a dramatic groan, clutching at his heart.

“Oh, such a violent response from my little raven. Did I breach a subject you don't want to talk about?” he asked, following stubbornly behind her as she went to fetch a high ball glass, still rubbing at his chest. “Could this possibly be the same reason you've been uncharacteristically patient and happy? I thought perhaps you'd actually been getting enough sleep lately, but that does seem unlikely.”

“Dorian, while I do normally appreciate that charming degradation of yours, it's not something you need to know about.” Branwyn jostled him with her elbow as she filled the glasses with ice and retrieved one of the bottles of whiskey under the bar. “Give me a little room to work, would you? And shouldn't you be taking some of these orders, too?” She gave him a pointed look and slid the whiskeys to a couple of dwarves sitting on the other end of the bar. 

“Ah, all in due time, my dear. But I'm afraid I'm not going to start helping you with those orders until you tell me who exactly is cracking that hard exterior of yours.” Despite his words, he still handed her a bottle of simple syrup so she could make the next order. He ducked when she swung at him with the towel again, letting out a jubilant chuckle. 

Annoyance written all over her face, Branwyn focused on the drink, mixing it quickly and setting it on another tray. Ducking around Dorian to grab a few more bottles of liquor, she made sure to bump him with her hip on her way back to the glasses he had set up for her. 

“Well, if you really want to know, he's just a friend. A neighbor, actually. We've only spent time together a few times, but...” She shrugged, pausing as she muddled the mint for a mojito. “I don't know. He's nice. It's good to have a friend outside of this place.”

The smirk on Dorian's face said that he wasn't believing it for a second, but he still stepped forward to help her distribute the mint and line the rims of the glasses with sugar. Between the two of them, the drink orders that had stacked up were gone in a matter of minutes, and they had a few moments to relax and breathe. Smoothing her hand over the shaved left side of her head, Branwyn leaned back against the sink and waited for Dorian to lay into her. 

“And he's really just a friend, then? No little glances stolen between the two of you over steaming mugs of coffee? No... steamy dreams?” He laughed as she threw the towel at him, hitting him right in the shoulder. “I think it's good, Bran. You close yourself up too much. A little something with a handsome neighbor would be good for you. Get some of that aggression of yours out so you're not trying to hit people with filthy towels all the time.”

Rolling her eyes, she quickly filled two glasses with tap water and handed one to Dorian, turning to look out over the bar again. The large, high-ceiling space was packed with people tonight; humans, elves, dwarves, even a few qunari. Herald's Rest was the only place she knew of in Haven that served every race without a second thought, and although the diversity could sometimes lead to small skirmishes and brawls that had to be broken up, it still felt like one of the few safe places left in the world. Taking a sip of her water, she watched a table of elves deeply engrossed in conversation, their ears perked up. It had been a long time since she had even felt comfortable among her same people, and she didn't want to think about what opening up to an outsider could bring spilling out of her. 

“I'm not going to have sex with him, Dorian,” she said, glaring at him again when he snorted. “I'm not. And I'm not going to seduce him or anything like that. He's a friend, that's it. And yes, he might be good looking. But there are certain walls I'm not gonna go tearing down.” 

“Did you ever consider that maybe you should tear them down?” he asked, setting his glass down and turning to face her, his face settling into a serious expression. “I worry about you, Branwyn. And it's not just me. Varric does too, although admittedly it's mostly because you're his best bartender. Even Bull does, and he's a bouncer. Keeping yourself distant like you have since you first came here? It leads to a lonely life. And I know you're not comfortable telling us what brought you all the way out here from Starkhaven. But you can't keep your feelings bottled up forever.”

“I'm a Starkhaven elf, Dorian. Bottling up emotions right here,” she placed a hand over her chest, “and keeping them there until we die? That's kind of what we do.” Finishing her glass of water, she placed the glass in the sink and removed her towel from his shoulder. “You're my friend, Dorian. Possibly my best friend in the entire world, Creators help me, but I'm a big girl. I can make my own life decisions. Besides, Bull needs to stop treating me like I'm a little sister. And even if I am lonely, Varric doesn't have to worry about that effecting my bartending skills.”

Dorian snorted at that, but still looked at her with such concern that she wanted to crawl under the bar and hide for several years. While she was glad that she had found a friend in the Tevinter man, she wasn't entirely comfortable with the concern that came with that friendship. Branwyn understood that it meant he cared, that it was a sign that he was a good friend and one that she shouldn't let go. But there were parts of her she didn't want anyone to see, even if they did happen to be her one and only best friend. So she did what she did best: she deflected the conversation away from her, stepping up to the bar as one of the dwarven waitresses handed her an order. 

“You think I didn't notice you walking a little bit funny a few days ago? I'm not the only one who may or may not be having casual dalliances,” Branwyn said, setting up a martini glass and handing the shaker to Dorian, whose mustache twitched in the beginnings of an amused smile. “And considering how often you lecture me about being lonely, you seem to isolate yourself, too. We both know we're two sides of the same coin, Dorian. So let me keep my friend to myself, and I'll let you keep yours to...”

The silence lasted longer than she would have cared for, but considering who had just walked into the bar, she was having a little bit of trouble making words work. Dorian, of course, noticed Branwyn's issue with words and followed her eyes to the sight that had made her uncharacteristically speechless. When she heard the delighted laugh he let out, she snapped back to herself, elbowing him hard in the ribs. 

Cullen had walked into Herald's Rest, leaning against a cane to keep pressure off of his left leg as he surveyed the bar. Dorian rested his chin on top of her head and placed a bottle of liquor by her hand, no doubt grinning that smug, infuriating little grin of his. 

“Please tell me you've torn his clothes off and ridden him like there's no tomorrow, Branwyn,” he said, voice lowered to what he would have called a scandalous whisper. “Although I must admit, I didn't peg you as the fixing type. But Maker, that is a fine specimen you've managed to find yourself.”

As an answer, Dorian got another elbow to the ribs, this one hard enough to knock the breath out of him and make him wince. Grumbling about unnecessary violence, he rubbed at his side and picked up another order that had been passed to them, heading to the back to grab new glasses. Letting out a small sigh, Branwyn went back to making the martini, reaching to grab a couple of olives. 

“Looks like they're keeping you busy.”

Cullen's voice startled her and she jumped, tossing the plate of olives in the air. Plucking some of them out of her hair, she tried to fight back an embarrassed flush as she placed one of the few that had remained in the dish on the rim of the drink. Leaning his cane against the bar and taking a seat on the stool in front of her, he gave her an amused grin as she sent the martini out on a tray. 

“I didn't mean to startle you,” he said, in a softer voice this time. 

“I've just been a little bit distracted today, that's all. The couple in 7F were getting to know each other even better last night, so I didn't get much sleep,” Branwyn answered, leaning against the bar and grinning. “The guy in 7B still practicing the saxophone at all hours?”

“Maker, yes. I've considered going over there a few times and shoving it up his arse,” Cullen groaned, rubbing at the back of his neck again. A small furrow appeared in his brow, and she wrenched her gaze away from him before she got too deep into analyzing the planes and angles of his face. 

“What exactly brought you out here?” she asked, ignoring the pointed look Dorian gave her as he walked past to grab a couple of beers for some qunari who had just come in. She had absolutely no doubt in her mind that the second Cullen left, Dorian was going to be asking her every invasive question he could think of. “You've never really struck me as the...”

“The bar-hopping type?” He chuckled and folded his hands on the smooth, polished wood of the bar, giving her the half-grin that pulled at his scar and made her stomach twist into knots. “Normally I'm not, no. It's not really my thing. But I've been told a few times that I need to stop being so serious all the time.” Shrugging, he went back to rubbing at the back of his neck. “So.. I figured why not come here?”

Unfolding the towel from her belt, Branwyn swung it behind her and reveled in the indignant snort she got from Dorian when it connected with his hip, and he walked a bit faster back to the qunari men. Folding her arms, she grinned at Cullen, who thankfully hadn't clued in to what had just occurred on the other side of the bar. 

“Well, then... What can I get for you, Mr. Rutherford?” Branwyn picked up a cocktail shaker and threw it in the air, catching it after three perfect flips and tossing it to the other hand. Maybe she was showing off, yes, but this was what she did. She was allowed to show off a little bit. 

The smirk on his face told her that he thought the same and he laced his fingers together, resting his chin on them and looking thoughtful. 

“That's a good question, Miss Lavellan,” he said, voice low as his eyes slipped over the bottles of liquor lining the shelves behind her. “It's been a while since I've had a drink. Are there any drinks you make here that are your specialties?”

“A few, yes. I'm not entirely sure if you're a fan of fruitier cocktails, though. Elven specialties, that kind of thing,” she said, waving a hand at the various colored bottles directly behind her. “Most of the people who order my drinks are little elf girls. Like me.” 

Although Cullen blanched a bit, especially when Dorian came to stand next to Branwyn, he cleared his throat and gave a small shrug. “No harm in experimenting with different drinks, right? What's the one most people ask for?”

“Oh, well, that one would be her--” Dorian was cut off when Branwyn stamped on his toes and gave him a pointed look. No inappropriate comments, or else. Clearing his throat and shaking out his foot, he ran his fingers over his mustache to smooth it down. “She makes one we call Bran's Tonic.”

“Bran's Tonic?” Cullen glanced over at her, raising one eyebrow. 

Despite the rising flush on her cheeks at that look, Branwyn shrugged and looked away from him, already grabbing a few bottles from the wall. “It's something I made one day when Dorian was complaining about the hangovers he gets after drinking on his days off,” she explained, giving Dorian another look when he started to complain and setting up the bottles in front of Cullen, naming them off. “Silver gin, white rum, raspberry liquor, citrus liquor, a little simple syrup, some soda, and...” With a flourish, she reached down and pulled out a little apothecary jar full of thin, small leaves. “Elfroot.” 

“A cocktail with elfroot in it?” He was clearly amused as he looked over the ingredients, and finally gave a shrug. “Alright, give me one of those. I've never had a drink with old healing herbs in it before.”

“Yes, well, that's our Bran for you.” Dorian spoke up as he passed a bottle of soda to her, a smirk on his face. “Always surprising you when you least expect it.”

Rolling her eyes, Branwyn muddled the elfroot at the bottom of the glass before adding ice and the liquors and topping it up with the simple syrup and soda. Once she was done, she put an elfroot leaf on it as garnish and pushed it over to him with a small grin.

“Don't worry about it diminishing your masculinity or anything. Dorian drinks them all the time.” That got her a sharp elbow jab from Dorian, who rolled his eyes as he went to make another order for some dwarves who had sat down at the bar. “I've also watched a few qunari drink them as a joke and then get hauled out piss drunk. So I'll have to put a limit on the amount I make for you.”

“I wasn't exactly planning on getting drunk here tonight, so I'll limit it to this one for now,” Cullen chuckled, taking a sip from the drink. Branwyn didn't realize she had been holding her breath until she let it out in a little sigh of relief when he didn't immediately spit it out. “Pretty good, actually. A little sweeter than what I used to drink, but good.” Grinning and tapping his fingers against the drink, Branwyn cleared her throat when his eyes lingered on her a bit too long and wiped her hands on the towel at her belt. 

“Well, that's good. I, uh... I should help Dorian with the other orders, but let me know if you need anything else, okay?” Before Cullen could properly respond, she was moving to the other end of the bar, grabbing a glass from Dorian.

“If the tension between you two was any higher, I think someone lighting a match in here would have caused it to explode,” Dorian said, raising an eyebrow and handing her mint to muddle. “I'm only surprised you didn't jump across the bar and tear his clothes off when he smirked at you. Your self-control is incredible. Although I didn't expect you to be the type for strapping young ex-military types.” When Branwyn glared at him, he laughed and bent down to press a quick, friendly kiss to the top of her head. “Relax, dear, it's something I find absolutely adorable about you. Now, go run off to the lounge upstairs and get some orders there so Cole can go on break. I'll refill your handsome friend's drinks and when you're off in an hour and a half, he'll walk you home.”

“He'll walk me home?” Branwyn raised an eyebrow and stepped back, crossing her arms over her chest. “Did you not notice the cane he has or the fact that I drove here tonight? And how do you even know that he'll walk me home?”

“Trust me, Branwyn, I have my ways,” he said, handing her a writing pad and pen. “And come tomorrow, you'll thank me for it. Now go run upstairs, I'm sure some of the people up there are starting to get a little perturbed with Cole. When your shift is over, someone will come get you.” When she hesitated for a moment longer to give him a quizzical look, he swatted at her with his own towel. “Go!”

Cursing at him in elven under her breath, she walked out from behind the bar and made her way to the posh, dimly-lit upstairs lounge. In an hour and a half, one way or another, she was going to have to deal with the troubling effects Cullen had on her.


	3. too afraid to fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cullen walks branwyn home from the bar, and they show a few of their sharp edges to each other.

An hour and a half later (after running up and down stairs, hauling drinks to already-drunk rich shems, and cursing herself for wearing her stilettos), the bar was finally beginning to empty, and Branwyn's shift was over. Sitting down in a chair, she let out a long sigh, jumping when a cold glass of ice water was placed in her hand. She looked up to see Cole, an odd human boy Varric had hired only two weeks after her. His long blond hair was swept back from his eyes with a head band, and his blue eyes looked right into her own.

“You are nervous about your sharp edges, about whether or not you'll hurt him if you let him in too close,” he said, voice soft as he sat down by her feet, leaning against her legs. Sipping at the water, she let her free hand snake down, running her fingers through his hair. “But you aren't all jagged and hurts, Branwyn. You are also so bright, like staring into the sun and trying to count birds.”

“Thanks, Cole.” Giving his shoulder a little tap, she urged him up to his feet. “But you and your weird habit of somehow reading my mind need to go somewhere else right now. You still have orders to run to Dorian, right?” 

Cole hesitated for a moment, reaching out to brush his fingers over her hand. Then he nodded and headed down the stairs, his footsteps fading as the music swelled. Sighing, Branwyn finished her water and set the glass in the sink before heading downstairs herself, pulling off her shoes once she made it to the bar. Dorian wrinkled his nose in disgust, but she rolled her eyes at him, snatching her purse, coat, gloves, and scarf from a little cubby beneath the ice machine. While some may have been convinced that the floors in the bar were filthy and crawling with nasty diseases, Branwyn wasn't too worried about catching her death through stockinged feet. Once her coat and gloves were on, Dorian walked up, wrapping her scarf loosely around her neck for her and placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Your gentlemanly neighbor, Mr. Cullen Rutherford, is going to walk you home this evening. I informed him that your car battery was having troubles, and since he took a bus up here, he worried about you going home by yourself.” Ducking away as she made to elbow him in the ribs, Dorian pulled her hair over her shoulder and lowered his voice. “I'll bring your car to you tomorrow morning, and I expect not only a lot of gratitude from you, but also explicit details about tonight. Now go.” 

Although she was half-tempted to tell Dorian exactly what she thought of his meddling in her personal affairs, Branwyn stopped herself and huffed instead, making a very rude gesture before turning and stalking around the bar. True to Dorian's word, Cullen waited by the door for her, leaning against the frame and staring out through the small window set in the massive wooden thing. Clearing her throat to get his attention, she smiled when he turned around, ignoring another painful twist in her gut when he smiled back at her. Wrapping his own scarf tighter around his neck, he opened the door for her, motioning for her to head through first. She did so, making sure to shoot another nasty look at Dorian as she left. The man was talking to both Iron Bull, the bouncer for the bar, and Varric, so she had no doubt that she'd have to recount the tale to the two of them during her shift the next day as well. 

Winter in Haven was harsh, even by her own standards. Starkhaven had always gotten a lot of snow during the winter months, but the cold had never been quite as biting and harsh, and she quickly slipped her shoes back on before she stepped out onto the sidewalk. Snow was softly drifting down, big fat flakes that almost looked like little clumps of sugar in the dim lighting of the streetlamps. Branwyn and Cullen walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes before he finally spoke up, brushing snowflakes from his hair. 

“So, Dorian told me you were having car trouble. I'm afraid I don't have a car myself, but if you'd like me to accompany you to and from work tomorrow, I'd be happy to,” he said, leaning heavily against his cane as they walked. 

“Are you sure? I mean, does all of this walking... you know, hurt you?” It was a heavy question that broached on something she wasn't certain he would be comfortable talking about. “And Dorian already offered to take my car in tomorrow, so I should be set. But I do appreciate it.”

There was a moment of silence before Cullen finally spoke again, raising his gaze to look up at the falling snow. 

“It hurts, but it's manageable. You don't need to worry about it.” He turned to look at her, giving her that small half-smile of his. “Well, I'm glad you're taken care of. But I thought I would offer anyways.”

“Well, trust me, if I wasn't already set, I would have taken your offer,” she said before she could stop herself, a rising horror clenching in her chest as she continued. “I... really enjoy spending time with you.”

Cullen looked surprised, eyes widening, and for a single horrific moment, Branwyn was absolutely convinced that he was going to ditch the cane and sprint away from her as fast as he could. Instead, a brilliant smile lit up his face, and that growing knot in her stomach twisted and clenched painfully. Rubbing at the back of his neck, he cleared his throat before he spoke. 

“I... also enjoy spending time with you, Branwyn,” he said, voice softer than before. His grip tightened on his cane as the continued walking, gaze shifting back to the path ahead of them. “You've become a very good friend in a short amount of time.”

Although Branwyn couldn't explain it if she tried, disappointment washed over her for a moment at his words. The knot turned into a thorny bundle, and she pressed a hand over her stomach, keeping her face blank. Stupid, stupid girl. Taking a deep breath, she pushed aside the pain and pulled her scarf up over her nose, the tips of her ears still poking up over it. 

“Thank you, Cullen. It's been a long time since I've really had friends. Outside of work, that is. I love Dorian, but... well.” She shrugged and rolled her eyes, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her coat. “It's been nice to talk to you.”

Their meet-ups for coffee every other day had become something she'd looked forward to, even after only three weeks of them. And apparently it had only taken her a little over a week to go from smart and cautious to stupid and soft. Kicking at a rock in her path, she mustered up the courage to ask a question, to step just a little too far over the line.

“What happened to your leg? And your hand... tonight was the first time you let me see it. You're missing the ring finger on your left hand,” she said, voice as soft as she could make it without risking him not hearing her. It was the verbal equivalent of jumping right off of a cliff. He could either catch her, or leave her tumbling into the abyss.

“It's a very long story. But I suppose I can give you the short version.” It had taken him a moment to answer, but she let out a small sigh of relief when he did. His grip had tightened further on his cane, but his face still seemed neutral. “I joined the military on my eighteenth birthday. I'd been in junior programs for it since I was a child, and it seemed like the perfect route for me. When I was twenty, I had already risen fairly high up in the ranks, and my squadron was sent to an encampment in an old tower on a lake. We'd gotten reports of suspicious activity there. Maybe Orlesians, maybe a fringe group. They caught us off guard. I was the only one who survived, but not without losing a finger, and...” He fell silent, his stride faltering for a moment. “An explosive device went off, sent shrapnel into my hip and thigh. Took a few years before the military realized their patchwork job hadn't gotten all of it out, and by that time, there was significant damage to the nerves and muscles. It took me a few months to walk again.”

Branwyn was silent for a while as they continued to walk, taking in his story. The pauses and the hesitation in his voice told her that he wasn't telling her the entire truth, but she wasn't going to push him for them yet. Instead, she reached out and brushed her fingers against his briefly. Before she could get the impulse to hold his hand, she shoved hers back in her pockets. 

“Thank you for telling me,” she whispered. She wanted to say something else, something more supportive and comforting, but everything she could think of only sounded hollow and insincere. 

“Why don't you tell me about that scar on your eyebrow?” Cullen finally turned to look at her, motioning to said scar. It bisected her left eyebrow, and while her hair normally covered it, she wasn't too surprised that he had noticed it. However, her reaction to being asked about it wasn't quite as calm as his had been.

“It's... Well.” Branwyn sighed and ran her hands over her face, trying to think of some way out of the question. However, he had told her about his own painful experience. It was only fair that she tell him about her own. She still had no doubt that her hesitation was written all over her face. 

“You don't have to tell me.” There was that soft voice of his again, like if he spoke too loud, she would shatter into a million pieces. She could feel him watching her, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. 

“When I was sixteen, my family lived in the elven alienage in Starkhaven. It wasn't the nicest place, but compared to some of the other alienages I've seen, it wasn't too bad. But some of the rich human boys liked to come into the alienage every month or so.” She looked down at her hands, ran her thumb over a pale, raised scar over the back of her right hand. “My sister was fourteen. Pretty. Blond hair, green eyes, even more freckles than I have. Half-sister, technically,” she said before he could get the question out of his mouth. “I may have black hair and blue eyes, but the resemblance is there. Anyways, she caught their attention while my brothers were out in the city working. I came home earlier than they thought I would.”

“Branwyn--”

“They hadn't done anything to her yet, but I wasn't going to let them walk out of there. So I grabbed a kitchen knife. They were better fighters than me, so I only managed to cut one of them before they took it from me. Went for my eye, but I kicked the one holding the knife in the groin, so he got my eyebrow instead. Bled a lot, and I was sure he had actually gotten my eye.” A bitter laugh escaped her before she could stop it. “The body goes into overdrive when you're in situations like that. I got the knife back, slashed at the boys more until they ran away.”

Before she could go on, Cullen was standing in front of her, and she nearly ran right into his chest. She looked up at him, and he placed a hand on her shoulder, light and hesitant. All of the hard angles in his face had softened into concern, and she looked away as pain twisted in her gut again. Stupid. 

“I'm sorry, Branwyn. I know that sounds hollow, but I am. Was your sister okay?” He still wasn't moving, and she realized she couldn't just keep walking with her head down now. 

“Yes, she was fine. Scared, and she didn't sleep easily for a few weeks afterwards, but I got there before anything really bad could have happened,” she said, rubbing her hands together and trying to ignore the solid warmth of his hand on her shoulder. “Look, I'm past it, okay? I learned to fight after that, and every time humans came after that, I could scare them away before they got to anyone.” Finally, she looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “It's also really cold, and I'd like to get home before I freeze to death.”

Finally, he removed his hand from her shoulder, and stepped to the side. Branwyn let out a small sigh and continued walking. They weren't too far from the building they lived in, and she found herself counting each of her steps as the walked in silence, side by side. It was awkward, but it was clear neither of them knew how to really break the silence, not after sharing such heavy information with each other. Silence seemed the best option, no matter how awkward or uncomfortable it was.

The ride up in the elevator was spent in silence as well, although both of them breathed relieved sighs when it didn't stop working on them again. When Branwyn got to her door, Cullen reached out and pressed the tips of his fingers against the inside of her wrist, a motion so gentle it shook her slightly off balance. Turning to look up at him, she jolted again when she realized just how close he was. The spicy, musky smell of his cologne filled her senses, and her head spun for a moment. This close, she could see a few of the freckles across the bridge of his nose, the texture of the scar above his lip. Heart in her throat, she was afraid for a moment that he was going to bend down and kiss her. Much to her shame, she found herself afraid of just how much she wanted him to press his lips against hers. Before she could open her mouth to say anything, he spoke, fingers still touching her wrist, just above her fluttering pulse. 

“Thank you for sharing your story with me, Branwyn,” he said, voice low and deep, barely above a whisper. His head was bent low enough that if she went up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, she could kiss him. Instead, she curled her hands into tight fists, digging her nails into the soft flesh of her palms. “And thank you for listening to mine without... well, without giving me the typical response.”

“What's the typical response?” Even though Branwyn knew her voice couldn't be much louder than a whisper, it sounded too loud in her ears. Cullen grinned, and she had to swallow the lump in her throat. 

“Well, it's usually one of two things. People either treat me like a broken thing to be fixed, or like a monster to be feared. But you didn't do either,” he said, searching her eyes for a moment. She wasn't sure what exactly he was looking for, but a moment later, his fingers were gone from her wrist and he had stepped away from her. The sudden removal of the spice of his scent and body heat left her cold again, and she almost reached for him, but shoved her hands in her pockets to avoid making that mistake. “Coffee again tomorrow? The usual time, usual place?”

Nodding, she gave him a small wave as he walked to his own door, heading inside. Taking a deep breath, Branwyn went inside and almost immediately slammed her head against the wall, cursing herself. Either she needed to cut out this growing affection in her heart like a weed, or she needed to numb herself for the inevitable pain that always came from falling for a human man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> while i was planning this fic, there were a few things i had to deal with. first, since i wasn't going to have magic in the fic, i needed to find a substitute for the templar order. second, with no magic, there'd be no dalish, so i'd have to make branwyn a city elf. and, of course, translating their backstories from one time period to a completely different one. i'm hoping i've done it in a way that is easy to understand and that the two of them and their motivations make sense.
> 
> on another note: one of the things i've always found frustrating is unresolved sexual tension. don't get me wrong, the payoff when the tension is resolved is almost always worth it, but it's always frustrated me. why can't they just admit they like each other? why don't they smash their mouths together already?? so however much this sexual tension may be frustrating for you, trust me, it's frustrating for me too.
> 
> as always, thank you guys for all of your lovely comments and kudos!! hope you stick with me. c: i can't promise updates will be as frequent as they have been (since i was only able to write so much while i was sick), but i'll try to keep them coming as fast as i can!


	4. this cage is all i know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> branwyn gets a call from cullen late at night, and learns about the shackles he's trying to break. WARNING: there will be discussion about prescription drug abuse and addiction in this chapter. please be careful reading this chapter if these topics might trigger you!

The call came at four in the morning. Branwyn had come home two hours earlier, and had only been asleep for an hour and a half. When the ringtone first jolted her out of sleep, she considered just silencing it. But when she recognized the lyrics to the cheesy pop song she'd chosen as Cullen's unique ringtone, she rolled over and disconnected her phone from the charger, sliding her thumb across the screen to answer and pressing it to her ear.

“Mm, 'ello?” Her voice was thick with sleep and she could barely understand herself, so she wasn't too surprised when she was met with silence at first. Sitting up, she rubbed at her eyes and repeated herself. “... Hello? Cullen?” Silence again. An uneasy knot began to form in her stomach and she leaned over to flip on the lamp on her bedside table. “Cullen? Hello? Are you okay?”

Although there still wasn't a verbal answer, she got the one that she needed through the phone. She could hear Riordan barking up a storm in the background, and heavy, labored breathing could be heard on the other end. Panicking, she jumped out of bed and grabbed her robe, pulling it on and trying to find her slippers. 

“Okay, Cullen, I don't know what's happening, but I'll be there in a minute, all right? I'm going to stay on the phone until I'm at your door. Is it unlocked so I can come in?” She almost cried in joy when she found her slippers, quickly shoving her feet in and snagging her keys before hustling out of the door. Quickly locking her own door, she let out a relieved sigh when she heard a muffled agreement from him. She ran to his door and opened it, hanging up as she did. “Cullen...?”

The apartment was dark, not a single light on. Afraid she might trip over something, she felt along the wall closest to her until she found a light switch and flipped it on. Cullen's living room was decorated sparsely and was almost freakishly clean; two generic framed paintings hung over the plain grey couch. A small tv with a modest sound system, no curtains over the windows, and a neat stack of newspapers on his coffee table. Compared to her own living room, which was covered in colorful drapes and shawls with old, oddly patterned furniture and battered old romance novels stacked everywhere, it looked almost professional. But she moved on from there, heading right and down the short hall to the bedrooms.

When she opened the first door, Riordan came bounding out, tackling her to the floor and making her head crack painfully against the wall. She let out a small cry, afraid the dog was going to rip her throat out, but instead, he grabbed the sleeve of her robe in his teeth and dragged her towards the other room. Stumbling to her feet and gingerly pressing her fingers to the sore spot on the back of her head, Branwyn let him lead her. The door stubbornly refused to open, even after she jiggled the knob and cursed at it. Finally, she took a few steps back and threw herself into the door. Considering she was only five feet tall and maybe weighed ninety-five pounds with stones in her pockets, the door beat her the first time and she fell back a few steps, shoulder throbbing. But she threw herself against it two, three, four more times until it finally gave in and she broke it open, catching herself before she fell forward. 

The room was dark, but she could still make out Cullen on the floor, curled into a ball and breathing heavily. Not bothering with the lights, Branwyn immediately ran over to him, falling to her knees and pressing her fingers against his chest, his back, his sides. Some dim part of her brain recognized that he was shirtless, but she zeroed in on the issue at hand. Now wasn't the time to get distracted. Leaning down, she ran her hands over his hair, trying to get him to look up at her. 

“Cullen, what's wrong? Are you hurt? Should I call an ambul--”

“No!” She didn't even get the full question out before he screamed out his reply, making her flinch. One of his hands grabbed her wrist, his grip painfully tight. “No, no ambulances!”

“But you look like you're having a seizure. I should at least take you to the hospital,” she said, in the calmest, softest voice she could muster despite the panic building in her chest. Letting him hold onto her wrist, she used her other hand to lift his head and place it on her lap. He was already on his side, but if he was having a seizure, it wasn't violent. His fingers shook, his chest rose and fall with rapid breaths, and the muscles in his shoulders twitched. But otherwise, he was quiet. 

“No. No, no, no, no hospitals. I'm fine. Not...” He let out a long, low moan of pain, pressing his cheek into her thigh, fingers tightening around her wrist hard enough to bruise. But Branwyn didn't pull away, simply grit her teeth and curled her hand into a fist. “... Not a seizure. Just... give me a second.” 

“Okay. No hospitals.” Although she could hear a short sigh of relief, Branwyn couldn't help but feel that she was chickening him out by not taking him. “No hospitals. Just relax. I'm here. Riordan's here. It's okay.” 

It was a few more minutes before his grip on her wrist finally loosened and his breathing began to even out. Riordan padded around her to snuffle at Cullen's chin and neck, finally settling for pressing his big body against Cullen's back and watching Branwyn with those big, honest, watery brown eyes of his. Still stroking his hair, she bent over, trying to get a better look at his face. 

“Better now?” He removed his grip from her wrist and turned onto his back, pressing the heels of his hands over his eyes and groaning. His head still rested on her lap, so she let her hands rest by her sides, waiting for him to answer her.

“Yes. No. I don't know,” Cullen answered, voice hoarse. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up, but when the attack started, you were the first person I thought of.”

Letting his hands fall away from his eyes, he looked up at her, and she flinched at his appearance. Cullen's face was drawn and pale, his eyes bloodshot and the rings under his eyes were dark. He was covered in sweat and a small tremor remained in his fingers. It hurt to see him like this, but she suspected pulling away was the worst thing she could do at the moment. So she smiled and brushed a few curly strands of blond hair away from his forehead. It was a disturbingly tender gesture, but it seemed to comfort him a bit, the haunted look in his eyes fading ever so slightly.

“It's okay.” Her own voice sounded a little bit hollow to her, but she was still recovering from a bit of shock as well. “That's what friends are for, right? I don't mind. But... I would like to know what's going on.” 

It seemed only fair, in her mind. If he said no, she would be fine with that. It would mean that she had another line drawn in the sand that she couldn't cross, and it would make it that much easier for her to carve him out of her when she had to. If he said yes... Well, she would be glad to know why he had woken her up at four in the morning to come help him through some kind of attack, but it also edged her that much closer to dangerous territory. Cullen took a deep breath and closed his eyes, folding his arms over his stomach and taking deep, even breaths.

“When I was injured, the pain was unbearable. I had to deal with it untreated for a while. So when I got back to headquarters, they put me on a lot of painkillers. I mean... a lot. Too many. Even after they put me back on the field and pretended I was still fit for duty, I relied heavily on them. I was in pain all of the time, but the pills took away the edge. I worked better when I was taking them.” He sighed, brow furrowing and his fingers digging into his sides. “I knew it was a problem a few months in. It was constant. Get up, take a few pills. Go to the mess hall, take more pills. Go out in the field, take even more. Sleep. Pills. Repeat. By the time I realized I was having trouble walking, I was in too deep. And they had encouraged it. The more I took the vicodin and the morphine, the better I fought. The better I led. Even when they had to discharge me, they offered me more pills than I needed, tried to give me back the edge they had loved so much. And... I refused. I've been off of vicodin for three weeks, and morphine for two and a half months. Most of the time, the withdrawal isn't bad, and I can work through it. But sometimes...” 

“You have attacks like these,” she whispered, closing her own eyes. “Just how much pain are you in every day?”

“Nothing that I can't deal with.” His own voice was barely above a whisper, and the dog let out a sleepy snort, pressing closer to his side. “Riordan helps me deal with the insomnia and alerts me if I'm going to have an attack. It's hard sometimes, but I'm not going to let those pills turn me into some weapon again. I was cold when I took them, distant. I don't want to become that person again.”

Taking a deep breath, Branwyn tried to calm her racing thoughts. It was a lot to deal with all at once, and a heavy burden on her shoulders as well as his. Not only that, but it was one step closer to him, one more thorny branch sprouting in her stomach, just waiting to twist and gouge at her guts. It was another sharp edge to match her own, and it made her want to press herself even closer to him. 

“And I respect that decision. I think what you're doing is brave,” she finally said, opening her eyes and looking down at him. He had been watching her while she thought, worry written all over his face, and she felt the tips of her ears flush. Glad that the room was dark and he couldn't see as well as her, she let her ears droop and scratched at the back of her neck. “I like who you are now. So if you need me to help me through one of these attacks again, I will. I can't fix them, but I can at least help you through it.” 

Relief flooded his features and he smiled, letting out a soft sigh. It made her stomach twist and turn, and her chest ached. Although she wanted to reach down and press all of the shattered pieces of him back together, she knew that she couldn't, and she had no right. It was his job to fix himself, to put the pieces back together and get through the addiction. But she could at least be there to support him, to hold him up if he started to fall. And that thought scared her, more than she thought it could. Before she could pull away, he reached over and took one of her hands in his. His palm was warm and calloused and large enough that her tiny one fit in it almost like a child's hand would. Heat bloomed across her cheeks but she couldn't bring herself to pull her hand away. Not now.

“Thank you, Branwyn. You've been more than I could have ever asked for.” That gentle tone creeped into his voice, the one that made her want to melt into a quivering puddle of elf and disappear. 

She took a deep breath and shrugged, letting out a soft laugh and letting her fingers curl over his. It was a dangerous move, but when she felt his fingers giver hers a soft squeeze, she relaxed. Should she have relaxed so easily? Absolutely not. But she let herself give in just this once, her hand warm and safe in his own. If she was going to start cutting him out of her heart, she wanted to at least give herself one moment to give in to the soft urges. In the morning, she could harden her heart again, become a sharp, jagged thing no one wanted to get close to.

“You, too,” she said, so quietly she could barely hear herself. Branwyn looked down to see if Cullen had heard her, and was relieved to see that his eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell in a calm, steady rhythm. He was asleep, his hand still holding hers, cheek pressed into her leg. 

Branwyn wanted to lean over, to kiss the worry lines from his face, to erase them from his face, to ease them back to the soft, strong angles she liked to see. The smiles he gave her when they drank coffee in the shop across the street, the way he laughed every damned time he beat her at chess, soft and strong, sharp but not cruel. Worry sharpened the angles, made him look crueler than he was. But she couldn't risk it, couldn't let herself cross over that one last line in the sand. So she clenched her jaw and managed to stretch up and over enough to grab the pillows from his bed. Slowly and as gently as she could, she slipped her legs out from under his head, placing him on the pillows instead. His grip tightened on her hand and he mumbled something she couldn't quite make out under his breath, and her stomach lurched in the oddest way. But she still slipped her fingers away from his, resting his hand on his chest. When he didn't wake up, she let out a relieved breath and stood up, wobbling a bit at first as she tried to find her balance again. 

A soft whuff stopped her as she started to head out of the door, and she turned to see Riordan pad up to her. Dogs had never been fond of her before, and she watched him warily as he approached her. He stopped in front of her for a moment, watching her, before he ducked his head and pressed it against her palm. That stubby little tail of his wagged and she gave in, scratching his ears. After a few moments, the dog was apparently satisfied and bumped his head against her hip, pushing her towards the door. She started to walk, stopping to watch as the beast went back inside of Cullen's room and curled up next to him, settling down to sleep again.

\- - - 

The next morning, when he left his flat to take Riordan out for a walk, Cullen found a small package sitting by the door. Picking it up, he carried it under his arm until he got back and put Riordan's leash away. When he opened it, he found a few hand-crafted tea bags, a small bag with a few sweet rolls, and a note, written in the messy, sloping script that was undoubtedly Branwyn's.

_Cullen,_

_Hope you're feeling better this morning. There's some elfy healing herbs in the tea to help with headaches, but if you tell anyone I made them for you, I'll off you myself. Sweet rolls are my mom's old recipe. Take it easy, and let me know if you need anything else. Even if it is the asscrack of dawn._

_Branwyn_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was a hard chapter for me to write. prescription drug abuse is actually a subject that hits close to home for me, so i wanted to do it justice in context of cullen's injuries and pain. drug addiction to prescriptions also has a bit of a spectrum: there are people who are high functioning, who work and focus better the more they take their pain killers, and some who deteriorate. from the (frankly heart-breaking and upsetting) scenes i've seen people upload of cullen if you don't make him quite lyrium, i figured he would be the former while he was taking morphine and vicodin, and the withdrawals would be that much worse. 
> 
> and now, since we've had a fairly heavy chapter, i promise the next chapter or two should be a little bit less serious and upsetting! as always, thank you guys for your lovely comments, kudos, and bookmarks, and i hope you stick around for more! c:


	5. torn apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> branwyn's sister comes to visit, cullen worries about branwyn's recent odd behavior, and she lets her feelings slip.

The next two weeks following Cullen's incident had been... awkward, to say the least. Branwyn had been oddly quiet during their coffee meetups, and while he usually ran into her while out walking Riordan or running errands, she had become oddly absent. It became harder to track her down or get her to answer her phone, and Cullen was afraid that he had scared her the night she had come over to help him. He began to find it difficult to focus on his work, so finally, he decided the awkwardness had gone on long enough. 

Gathering up a bottle of wine he had bought a few days earlier and an assortment of fruit he thought she might enjoy, Cullen went to her door and knocked, awkwardly juggling the food and wine in one arm while he leaned on his cane with the other. As the door opened, he began to speak, but stopped when he realized that the woman standing in front of him was not Branwyn. 

“Um... Is Branwyn home?” Cullen shifted his weight to his good leg as he tried to avoid the curious stare of the elven woman standing before him. She was beautiful in a way that was completely opposite from Branwyn. Her golden hair was braided over one shoulder and her freckled skin was fairer, eyes bright green and catlike as she looked him over. “I, uh, had some things to talk to her about...”

“Echo, who's at the door?” Blessedly, Branwyn appeared next to the strange woman, nudging her out of the way with her hip. Side by side, Cullen could see the similarities between the two of them: the same sharp, angular cheek bones, the same small, delicate hands... This was the sister she had told him about a few times before. However, the stare down Branwyn gave him was almost as uncomfortable as the one he had gotten before. “Cullen. Is something wrong?”

“What? Oh, no, nothing's wrong. I just... wanted to come and say hello. Bring a few things over. Can I come in?” Lifting the various items he had, he gave her a timid smile, hoping that the stoney look on her face would pass. When she sighed and stepped aside, motioning for him to come inside, he let out a small sigh of relief.

Cullen had never been inside her apartment before, and he took a moment to take it in, looking around quickly. Colorful drapes and curtains of all sorts of patterns hung over her windows and walls, covering the bland beige paint in all of the flats. Her large, plush furniture was mismatched and boasted odd patterns, old books with dusty and tattered covers stacked on the ancient coffee table. Following her into the kitchen, Cullen set the fruit into a large bowl she set out for him, and handed her the wine. He wasn't entirely sure what she drank herself, even though she was a bartender, but good reds always seemed to be a safe bet. When a small smile broke the carefully constructed shell she had put up, Cullen almost fell to his knees in relief, but instead smiled himself and leaned against the counter. 

“I'm guessing the woman who was glaring at me before is your younger sister?” he asked, glancing out at said sister, who was sitting curled up in an armchair, face buried in a book. 

“That's Echo, yeah,” Branwyn said, pulling out two wine glasses and handing one to him before opening the bottle of wine. “It had been a while since we'd seen each other, so she came from Starkhaven to see me. She's a bit... odd, but she's a good kid. I'm not sure if she'll talk to you since you're a stranger, but she was pretty curious about who you were when she first came over.”

Holding out his glass so Branwyn could pour in some wine, Cullen leaned back against the counter again, raising one eyebrow as he sipped. “She was curious about me?” he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a smile when the tips of her ears began to flush. 

Pouring herself a glass as well, Branwyn placed the cork back in the bottle before turning to Cullen, taking a large gulp of wine before she answered him, leaning against the counter next to him. 

“I may have mentioned you a few times when she called. She worries about me, and she had been getting on to me about not having as many friends as I should, so I mentioned you.” Quickly switching the topic of conversation, she gently prodded his side with her elbow, grinning. “But surely you came here for a reason other than to just chat and drink some wine. You look like you have something on your mind.”

“I... do.” He said, taking another sip from his glass of wine and glancing nervously at her sister. The other elf's ears twitched slightly, and he realized that the girl was more than likely going to be listening in on their conversation. Setting down his glass, he picked his cane back up and cleared his throat. “Do you mind if we speak outside? Go for a walk, maybe?”

Branwyn gave him a curious look, and just as she was about to answer him, Echo spoke up, setting her book down and pushing herself out of the chair. 

“Sister, I think I'm going to go back to the hotel for the night.” As she walked over, Cullen shrank under the intensity of her gaze, feeling as if she was cutting through him straight to his soul. Echo gave Branwyn a sweet, soft kiss on her cheek and gathered up a purse and coat from next to the door. “Let me know if you need me later.” With that, she was gone, the door closing softly behind her. 

“Uh...” The sudden silence that stretched between them made Cullen feel all the more awkward, and he scratched at the back of his neck as Branwyn stared at the door. “I still think that going for a walk might be nice. It's not sleeting outside right now, and it's quite a nice night, so I thought some fresh air would--”

“I'd like that,” Branwyn interrupted before he could embarrass himself anymore, a small smile on her face as she moved past him to pick up a coat and scarf. “It won't hurt your hip too much?”

“I'll be fine,” he said, opening the door for her as they headed out. Once she had the apartment locked up, they walked slowly to the elevator, a more comfortable silence hanging between them. Once they were inside and the elevator began to shake and creak its way down to the ground floor, Cullen chuckled. “Hopefully it doesn't break down on us again.”

“I'm not exactly hoping for it to break again, either,” she laughed, wrapping her scarf tighter around her throat and chin. Glancing up at him, she gave him a hesitant smile. “I am glad it broke down that first time, though.”

Letting out a soft laugh, he rubbed the back of his neck again as they walked out of the elevator, ignoring the soft ringing in his ears. Not here, not now. As they made their way outside, the ringing finally faded away, and he let out a sigh of relief. The snow crunched under their shoes, and he took a moment to enjoy the still quiet, his arm brushing against hers every few steps. 

“I was wanting to talk to you about... well,” Cullen started, gripping his cane tighter as they walked around the corner, towards the park nearby. “You've been acting a little bit odd lately. If it's because of my episode, I'm sorry if I scared you. I probably shouldn't have called you.”

“No, no, it's not that!” She let out a sigh herself, running a hand through her hair. When their arms brushed against each other again, she flinched and stepped a bit further away from him. The tips of her ears were turning red, and she kept her eyes on her feet. “It's not about that. I want you to tell me if you need me to help with something like that again. It's just...”

“If it's something I've done, I'd like to know,” he said, voice soft. “I don't want to upset you.”

“No, you didn't do anything wrong. It's not like that.” She looked uncomfortable now, shoving her hands in the pockets of her coat. She let out a long exhale, breath fogging in the cold night air.

Cullen remained silent while she tried to gather her thoughts, lifting her head to look up at the sky. It was a cloudless night, and he could see the stars clearly, the moon hanging bright and full above them. After a few moments, Branwyn let out an exasperated sigh and walked up to the swingset, sitting in a swing and rubbing at her face. 

“I'm... not really sure how to word this,” she said, finally looking up at him. Cullen stopped to stand in front of her, leaning on his cane. It was hard to tell how she was feeling, and her face looked more pained than anything else. “Creators, Cullen, we've only known each other for a few weeks. I don't even know where to start. And I don't want to make anything awkward between us.”

Although he was beginning to put two and two together, Cullen still remained quiet to let her get it out by herself, sitting down in the swing next to her. The flush began to spread from her ears to her cheeks, but Branwyn still stubbornly stared down at the ground as she went on.

“Look, Cullen, I really like you. Like, really really like you. All of that grade school bullshit.” She raised her eyes again to glance at him, expression carefully guarded. “And I don't know exactly how you feel, but it's just like... like I keep getting pulled towards you no matter how hard I try to stay away. And it's a terrible idea, I know. It could go so wrong so fast. But I need to let you know. That I've fallen for you.”

“I, um...” Cullen wasn't entirely sure what to say. The way she was looking at him was making his chest feel tight, and his face felt hot. She continued to stare at him, those silver-blue eyes of hers so large and bright in the moonlight. Part of him wanted to reach for her, to pull her to him and... do what? He didn't know. Dozens of thoughts were running through his head at once, mixing him up and confusing him. She had feelings for him. This woman he had met on accident one night, who had held him when he was at his lowest and had listened to his problems, seen the ugly sides of him and hadn't pushed him away. Her hands tightened around the chains of the swing, and the brightness of her eyes seemed to start to dim.

Panicking, he turned away from her, setting his cane across his lap. Taking a deep breath, he just let the first thing he could think of out of his mouth.

“I don't know, Branwyn. I don't think it's a good idea.” Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Cullen regretted them, but he continued on anyways. “I don't know how I feel about you. It's confusing. I don't know if it's the same as what you're feeling. And it's been such a long time since I've let anyone into my life, I just don't want to--”

“That's enough.” Her voice sounded choked, barely audible, but he fell quiet the second she spoke, looking up at her again. Branwyn stood back up, her face stubbornly turned away from him so he couldn't see her. But the slight shaking of her shoulders told him everything he needed to know. Cullen started to say something, but she held up a hand, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a soft, shaking sigh. “I don't... I don't want to hear anymore. I understand. You don't return my feelings.”

“No, Branwyn, I just--”

“I don't want to hear it!” She screamed at him, turning around to face him, big, fat tears rolling down her cheeks as she fought back sobs. Cullen could have sworn that he felt his heart stop, and he started to stand up, to reach out for her, but she pulled away from him, anger and pain written all over her face. She wiped furiously at her cheeks with her sleeves, shaking her head. “I knew that falling for you was the worst thing I could do. Falling for shems... it just... it never works out. I knew, I knew I would get hurt but I still let this stupid heart of mine take over, and I ignored all this rational thought.” He tried to reach for her again, and she jerked away from him again, as if his touch would burn her. “Just... I need some time, Cullen. I need some time to burn this out. So just... Just leave me alone.” 

Before he could stop her, before he could grab her and tell her that no, that was not what he was trying to say, that he was just confused, she was gone, walking away from him with her head ducked low. Thunder echoed in the sky above his head, and he stood there, numb, as the one person he had never wanted to hurt walked out of his life. And as her quiet sobs retreated and he could no longer see her shaking shoulders, he realized with sudden, painful clarity that the woman he had fallen for had had her heart broken because he simply couldn't figure out his own feelings before it was too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god, it's been a while, hasn't it. work has been a lot harder for me than usual and i had some wicked writer's block, so i'm sorry for the long time between updates. i shouldn't have such a long pause between chapters next time! especially since the next chapter is one i've been looking forward to for a while. ;) and as always, thank you guys for your sweet comments, kudos, and bookmarks! hope you keep sticking with me!
> 
> p.s. -- i know this one is short and kind of terrible, and i apologize, but i absolutely promise the next chapter will make up for it.


	6. it was always you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> cullen explains himself to branwyn, and the two finally act on their feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS IT. this is the smut chapter. this was so satisfying to write, because the two of them can finally act on how they've been feeling since they've met instead of being dumb idiots and denying it. so: SMUT AHEAD. be warned. it's fairly tame, but if you don't like smut, feel free to skip to the next chapter.

“I wish you were still here, Echo. It would be nicer to talk to you about this face to face.” Branwyn sat curled up in her armchair, the curtains drawn over all of her windows and the hood of her sweatshirt pulled up over her head. It had been several days since she had walked away from Cullen, and Echo had had to head back to Starkhaven the next day. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Branwyn,” Echo said on the other end of the phone, her voice soft. “But I had to come back. You know I can't leave my job for long. The students miss me.” 

“Damn you for being a good teacher,” she said, a bitter laugh escaping her. Thunder rumbled outside, and she pulled a blanket over her lap as she heard sleet begin to tap against the windows. “... I never should have told him.”

“No, that's not true.” There was a small sigh on the other end, and she could imagine the scowl Echo probably had on her face. “You needed to tell him. Sometimes the person you like doesn't like you back. It happens. But you are strong, and you will get past this.”

“Thanks, sis.” Branwyn almost smiled, curling up further in her chair.

“And if you want anything bad to happen to him, just let me know.”

“Echo, you know that's not--”

Violent knocking on her door interrupted her and she turned to look at the offending noise. Frowning as the knocking continued and rose in volume, she mumbled a quick goodbye to Echo on the phone and hung up. Branwyn stood and walked to the door, the hood of her sweatshirt still pulled up over her head as she opened it a crack.

Cullen stood before her, breathing heavily, hair slicked to his face from the sleet outside, face flushed. He was the last person she wanted to see, and she began to shut the door on him, turning her face away. But he slammed a hand on the door, leaning against it. He didn't have his cane, and his face was pinched in pain. 

“Wait, Branwyn. Please let me talk,” he said, still trying to catch his breath. “I need to tell you something.” 

“It's not something I want to hear.” She hardened her voice, sharpened steel to cut through his words and his heart, inflict a little bit of her pain back onto him. It was immature of her, but at the moment, she couldn't have cared less. “Please let go of the door and leave.”

“No. You've been ignoring my calls, and this is something that I need to say.” The bite in his voice startled her and she blinked up at him, the intensity in his stare making her hesitate for a moment. He pushed the door open further, but didn't step inside. “Once I'm done, you can kick me out, slam the door in my face, never talk to me again, whatever. But I need to say this, and you need to listen to me.”

She briefly considered leaning the entirety of her weight into the door to slam it on his fingers, but before she could put her plan into action, he was talking, voice low, near a growl.

“I've been an idiot. It's been so long since I've let anyone into my life that I couldn't recognize how I felt. I didn't know how to react when you told me how you felt, so I went for the safe route and denied the feelings that I knew were there. It's been so long, and I didn't want to get either of us hurt,” he said, taking one small step closer to her. He was still breathing heavily, but she doubted that it was because he was winded anymore. The gold of his irises had darkened, his pupils blown as he continued. “I was too stupid to realize that I don't care if I get hurt. That the answer was always there.”

“What are you trying to say?” Branwyn gripped the door tightly, her knuckles white as she stared back up at him. Her own heart was beginning to race, her body gravitating towards his before she could stop it. It was how it was always meant to be; they always gravitated towards each other, no matter how much it may hurt her in the end. 

“I'm saying it was always you, Branwyn. Always. You were always there and I was too stupid, too blind to see it.” He was so close she could smell the crisp tang of the rain on his coat, the spice of his shampoo and the soap he used. “Maker's breath, I've always wanted you, from the moment I saw you. And I can't stand the thought of losing you now. Not because I was too stupid to see that you were what I've always wanted.”

Before he could continue, she reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck and going up on her toes to press a soft kiss to the corner of his lips, just over his scar. It shut him up as well as she was hoping, and when she pulled back away, he stared down at her, dazed, hands still at his sides. Just as she was about to pull away fully, retreat back into her apartment, he pulled her back to him, hands hard on her hips, fingers digging into her skin as he kissed her hard enough to take her breath away. After a moment, she grasped at him, fingers laced in his hair, body pressed against his, and he pushed them back towards her living room.

Every sigh, every secret glance, every dream they'd had the past few weeks went into that kiss, every frustration and passion and need. Their teeth clashed and she bit his tongue and he dug his nails into the skin just above the waistband of her shorts. It was imperfect and perfect all at once, their noses bumping together as she stumbled over a stack of books, almost falling backwards. Cullen nearly went with her but managed to hold her up, pressing her back, back, back, until she was pressed up against the wall and he was towering over her. They broke apart for a moment to catch their breath and he stroked her hipbones with his thumbs, slowly pulling her sweatshirt up just enough to bare a small patch of skin. He looked down at her, pupils still blown, a look of pure adoration in his eyes as he bent down to press soft kisses along her jaw.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have an amazing amount of freckles?” he asked between kisses, still massaging her hips with small circular motions of his thumbs. Branwyn's hands had slipped from his hair to his shoulders, one drifting further down to press against his shoulder blade, a small moan slipping from her mouth as she felt muscles flex beneath her palm. 

“I've heard that one... quite a few times, actually,” she gasped back, letting out a small chuckle. “You'll have to pull a new one out for me.”

Her breath hitched as he moved from her jaw to her ear, biting her lip as he nipped at the very tip of her ear. A soft chuckle was breathed against her skin and he slipped down to her neck, nipping at the skin and leaving a trail of little red marks. His hands were at her waist now, ever so steadily bearing more skin. In answer, she slipped her own hands down and under his shirt, pressing them against his stomach, feeling the hard muscles flexing under her touch. 

“You have such beautiful skin. Light brown, smooth to the touch.” Cullen pulled back and pulled her sweatshirt over her head, tossing it behind him and running his fingers over the tattoos on her skin, swirling and stretching over her sides and shoulders and hip. She arched her back under his touch, torso bare to him save for her bra. “And your tattoos are beautiful. Your scars too.” He ran a thumb over an old scar on her collarbone before bending to press a kiss against it. “All of you.”

Stretching her arms above her head, she reveled in the gentle touch of his fingers and lips over her skin, closing her eyes as he pressed kisses to the freckles spanning over her chest and shoulders. Letting her arms fall back down and resting her hands on his shoulders, she pushed him away gently. Cullen let her push him back towards the sofa, falling back onto it when his legs hit the edge. Climbing onto his lap, she pushed his coat off of his shoulders and smoothed his hair back from his face, thumbs brushing over his temples. She made quick work of his shirt as well, smoothing her hands over the hard planes of his chest and settling back on his lap. Her fingers traced every scar: the faded ones on his shoulder, an old bullet wound on his ribs, and the beginning of the deep, ugly scars that stretched further down his hip, out of sight. He flinched when she first touched them, and she quickly pulled away. 

“Should I not...?”

“No,” he breathed, guiding her hand back, cheeks flushed and breath coming in quick gasps. “I want you to.”

Her heart hammering in her chest, Branwyn leaned forward and kissed him again, slower this time, trying to pour every ounce of her feelings into it. His stubble scratched against her skin as he kissed her back, his hands gently cupping the back of her head and neck. It was slow, tender, and kind, but it got her heart racing even faster, and she let her fingers slip down to the waistband of his jeans, tugging them down lower over his hips. She broke the kiss to breathe, pausing as her fingers went to the button on his jeans. 

“... Are we going too fast?” The realization sank in suddenly. There was nothing more she wanted at the moment than to have him take her as hard and fast as he could, but the logical part of her brain said that everything was accelerating way too fast. She sat back on his lap and Cullen let out a soft groan, running his hands through his damp hair. “I just... god, Cullen, I don't want to ruin this.”

“I don't want to ruin this either,” he said, voice low. “I've already ruined it once before. But... Maker, Branwyn, I want this. I need it.” His chest rose and fell in rapid breaths as he looked her over, hands resting on her hips. “I've needed this for a long time.”

She wanted to moan just from the look he was giving her, his fingers pressing into her hipbones. If there was ever a moment to just go with the feeling, to lose control, it was now. They were alone, they were horny as hell, and they were half-naked. Pressing her hips into his, she flipped open the button of his jeans and pressed her lips to his jaw. Cullen moaned low in his throat, his grip tightening ever further on her hips as she sucked a mark on the column of his neck. She wanted to mark him, sink her teeth into him, and she nipped at his throat and collarbone as she kissed her way down his body. Sliding to her knees on the floor in front of him, she pressed gentle kisses against the scars on his side and hip as she slid his pants off and down to his ankles. 

Already half-hard, Cullen laced his fingers into Branwyn's hair and moaned as she palmed him through his briefs. A sly smile curled up the corners of her lips and she moved back up onto his lap, slipping her hand into his briefs and slowly beginning to stroke him. His head fell back against the checkered cushions as she sank her teeth into the sensitive skin between his throat and shoulder, giving him a hard tug. Digging his nails into her hips, he gasped as she laved her tongue over the bite and chuckled against his skin. Before she could work him any further, he reluctantly pulled her hand away and stood up, wrapping her legs around his waist. Kissing her hard and sucking at her bottom lip, he stumbled his way towards her room. She broke the kiss for a moment to direct him into the right room, and once they were inside, they tumbled onto the bed in a giggling heap.

Recovering faster than her, Cullen pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, letting the other run down to her chest, pausing over the front clasp of her bra. Reminding himself to thank her for that little convenience later, he flicked it open, ducking his head and taking one pert nipple into his mouth almost immediately. Egged on by her moans and sighs, he suckled and lapped at one breast before moving to the other, nipping with his teeth when she dug her nails into his scalp. Finally, she jerked his head back hard by his hair, chest heaving as she stared down at him, eyes dark. 

“Enough teasing,” she panted, flexing her fingers and lifting her hips up to his with a keening moan. Cullen almost fell apart completely at that, but kept his grip on her firm as she licked her lips and ground against him. “Just do it.”

There were a thousand things that Cullen wanted to do to her, now that he had her under him. He wanted to kiss her all over, taste her, make her fall apart under his tongue and lips. But at the moment, he couldn't help but want to get it over with as well, with the way she was pressing her hips against his. Removing his hands, he started to pull down his briefs, but was interrupted when she flipped them over. Staring up at her with wide eyes, he almost started laughing as she removed her shorts and panties and climbed back on top of him, quickly pushing his briefs down as well. There was a real hunger in her eyes, and before he could say anything else, she had his cock in hand and was sinking down onto him with a low moan.

Careful not to put too much of her weight across his hips, Branwyn braced her hands on his chest as she took him in as deep as she could, biting her lip. His hands slid up her thighs to settle low on her hips, and she rolled her hips slowly, watching as he groaned and let his head fall back onto her down pillows. He was larger than she had expected, and the stretch was a bit painful at first; perhaps she should have had him open her up a bit with his fingers first. But she felt beautifully full, and the sight of his flushed face and labored breathing made that first ache worth it. Leaning down, she pressed soft, sloppy kisses over his cheeks and jaw as she lifted her hips up, almost pulling him out of her entirely. When she jerked her hips back down and sheathed him fully, she let out a moan herself. 

At first, she ground herself down onto him slowly and carefully, building a steady rhythm that had his pleasure more in mind than her own, her fingers spreading across his chest and burying into the thick hair there. But it wasn't enough for Cullen. Sitting up, he urged her to cross her ankles behind his back as he got on his knees and bent her back. One hand on her lower back and the other guiding her hips, he thrust into her hard and fast, changing the pace almost immediately. He moved desperately, grunting with each thrust of his hips. Before long, he was kneeling over her as she cried out and raked her hands down his back, pounding into her as he felt his climax building. One finger slipped down to rub at her clit, and before he knew it, Branwyn was falling apart around him, screaming out his name and clawing desperately at his shoulders and chest as her hips jerked against his. Feeling her pulsing around him had him tumbling over as well, spilling into her as he let out a muffled cry, bending forward to press his face into her shoulder. His hips jerked into hers a few more times before he stilled, their chests rising and falling in unison as they both came down from their climaxes. 

“Oh god,” he whispered, pulling away from her, his softening cock twitching slightly at the moan she let out when he pulled out of her. “Oh god, Branwyn, I'm sorry, we didn't use protection. Do you need me to go...” 

Pressing a finger against his lips, she shushed him, a lazy smile spreading across her face as she stretched underneath him. 

“It's fine,” she whispered, running a finger over one of the scratches she'd left on his shoulder. “I'm on birth control. I would have stopped you if I wasn't.” Lifting herself up with one elbow, she kissed him again, slow and lazy.

Relaxing, Cullen kissed her back, rolling onto his side next to her. Although their feet were resting on her pillows and his head bumped against the footboard, he let her curl against him like that, her warm skin against his. Wrapping himself around her, he kissed her again, heart still beating fast in his chest. To go from being ignored to having her naked body pressed against him made his head spin a bit, and he chuckled as she tucked her head against his chest, letting out a happy sigh.

“I have to admit, when I first met you, this is not exactly how I saw things happening,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “And I really thought you were going to slam the door in my face when I first got here, not...”

“Give you a really great fuck?” she answered, mumbling into his chest. Cullen let out a startled laugh, and she chuckled as well, running her fingers over his back. “I considered it. But the heart does stupid things that end up in wonderful results.”

“Mm, that it does.” Holding her close, Cullen let his eyes drift close, breathing evening out as they lay there, curled around each other. “Branwyn, I...” 

Shushing him, she pressed a soft kiss to his chest and snuggled closer to him. 

“Not now, Cullen. In the morning,” she whispered, her voice quiet and tired.

Letting out a hum of agreement, he pulled her even closer to him before he let sleep fall over him, happier than he had felt in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i also have to admit: i've had most of this chapter typed up since chapter 1, so that's why you get two chapters in one day. whoops.


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